Flame
by Tani-san
Summary: Sometimes, I imagine that he cares. It's an indulgence, I suppose...' Oneshot, not quite a drabble.


A/N: This is a story I wrote a long, long time ago. Like, many moons. It never had a name, and it did have a couple continuations, but I lost them (This was saved on a floppy somewhere, so when I got a new computer this was all the fanfiction that survived). I like it. I don't care if you don't. Because the situation seemed to call for it, I named it, after an old hide matsumoto song. So without further ado..

Flame

Sometimes I remind myself of a moth.

One of those big ones, you know? The ones that are attracted to the light. You _know_ it's dangerous, and you _know_ that if you try to get close you're going to get zapped, but you just can't resist it for some reason.

I'm not what you'd call a hopeless romantic. I never believed in that 'love at first sight' crap until I met him, but when I did, it threw that phrase into a whole new perspective. Just looking at him gave me a little shiver up and down my spine, like someone just put an ice cube down my back.

I know that the other guys, specially Quat, expect us to get together, since I'm the one who's always around him and all. Hmph. I don't know how on earth we managed to get paired together so often, or why _I_ out of all people had to fall for him. I guess it's true, what they say about opposites attract, because there's no other reason I can think of that I'd bewell, _attracted_ to him so much.

There's one thing about it that hurts though. No matter how much I care about him, and no matter how I try to show it, I doubt that he'll ever think of me as anything but the Braided Baka. A talkative annoying gundam pilot who's either a valuable part of the mission or a somethingsomething he can do without. And I don't think that anything I can do will convince him otherwise.

Sometimes, I think that I see a little emotion under the robotic surface of the boy called Heero Yuy. But if I try to look deeper, it's gone. When that happens, I wonder what exactly happened to him to make him like that, to suppress his emotions altogether. When I think about the childhood he must have had none at all, basically it almost makes me appreciate the years out on the streets. At least I had Solo then.

Almost.

But not quite. I'll never forget any of them, but I can't say that I wasn't happy to get away. Solo, Bit, Leah, Tiny, Alex, Squirt, Ed, Ginoall of them are a special part of Duo Maxwell, even though they're probably all dead by now. When I snuck on that transport out of there, I had no way of knowing what was in store for me. I didn't know whose transport it was, either, or I might have been a little more suspicious at all the high tech security. All I could think about was getting away from L2, and getting away from the memories that were starting to tear me apart. I wished for a new life, and I got it. I just don't think I meant that in the sense that it was fulfilled.

So now I'm Duo Maxwell. Shinigami, god of death. When I'm on the field, it's like the street orphan in me never leftI never made it off of the L2 colony, and I'm still fighting to survive in a world that's bigger, stronger, and wants nothing more than to eat me alive. I'm short no taller than 5'2", I'm guessing but when Shinigami comes to play, size doesn't matter.

I make sure that none of the others ever get to see me for what I really am. I doubt it would matter to Heero anyways, as long as it didn't jeopardize the mission. He's the one I care about the most, but the most kindness he's ever shown me is when he didn't shoot me on the moon base. I don't delude myself into thinking he wouldn't have, and sometimes I wonder why he didn't pull the trigger. Whatever the reason, I love him all the more for it.

Sometimes, I imagine that he cares. It's a little indulgence, I suppose. When you're fighting for your life, you don't have time to think about things like that, so I don't. But sometimes, when we're camping out with our Gundams, and I'm looking up at the colonies, I imagine that he actually cares. That he would actually give a damn if I lived or died. It's a small hope, and a short lived one. I look over at him, sleeping in the middle of winter in his tank top and spandex, and think that he couldn't care. He's the Icicle, the Perfect Soldier. Caring is an emotion brainwashed out of him by Doctor J. But sometimes, I see that little flicker of_something_ in his eye and I take hope. And I imagine I'll cling to that little shred of hope until Deathscythe explodes with me in the cockpit.

_Dear my mind donna fukou ni demo_

_Say hello ieru kimochi hoshii_

_Dear my hurts itsumo kakaeteita_

_Like a wind omoi mono suteyou_


End file.
